


It takes heart to ask for help

by Readingfanfics



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD Sherlock, Panic Attacks, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: Can you come over tonight? SHSherlock's strange text shifts Greg's and Sherlock's relationship to something else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't an easy fic. I started writing this in January 2017 and it took a while to finish it. Then it sat in my 'To Post' folder for a long time. It's set after Sherlock comes back from the dead, after taking down Moriarty's network and I've always wondered how that affected Sherlock, being alone for so long. And how would it affect him when his best friend isn't there?
> 
> Just to be clear, this is a Sherstrade fic, so John won't make a magical appearance once Sherlock is all 'patched up'... This really is about Sherlock and Greg and how they move from being colleagues/ maybe friends to something else. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Ps; ratings and tags can change per chapter. I'm also not a doctor or nurse so medical stuff will probably not be accurate. ( I also didn't do much research for this fic, I didn't do research in that point in time and doing it now would only make me delete the fic so please forgive the inaccuracy.)

**\--Chapter1--**

 

“Sherlock?”

 

Greg tentatively walks into 221B. The flat is too quiet, too dark and too cold. He shivers, switching on the light and closing the door. It feels as cold as it has been outside and he makes his way around the flat, setting the radiators to their highest setting. He pulls off his gloves, letting his hands warm up for a moment as the radiators get to work, quickly getting rid of the chill in the living room.

 

He turns around, taking in the flat and trying to figure out what has happened. Everything seems the same as the last time Greg has been here. Maybe there were more stacks of paper on the desk and a few more empty dishes but it was nothing too alarming. Sherlock hated cleaning, always had, and Greg has gotten used to the man's chaotic ways over time.

 

The one thing that is different is the lack of John's things. Greg's stomach does a flip as he notices the empty spot on the coffee table. John's writing supplies had been there before, together with his Royal Army Medical Corps mug. It doesn't come as a total surprise to Greg but the flat suddenly feels emptier.

 

“Sherlock? It's me, Lestrade. You texted me.”

 

Greg waits for a second but doesn't hear anything, his eyes scanning the living room again. Something is wrong, he just feels it. The moment he'd read the text he'd been on edge, impatient for the day to end, wanting to drop everything and check to see if Sherlock was okay.

 

**Can you come over tonight? SH**

 

It had been simple and straightforward but it had stopped Greg's world. It wasn't like Sherlock to text him like this. Asking Greg to come over and being so polite and hesitant about it. Sherlock has a habit of ordering people. Telling them what to do and expecting it to get done. He'd texted right back, asking what was going on, if he was in trouble, but Sherlock hadn't answered. Not to his text and not to his call.

 

He then tried getting into contact with John and his worry grew as Mary picked up the phone, explaining to Greg that Sherlock and John hadn't talked to each other, not since the night he'd come back and John hit him a bloody nose.

 

“ _He's very angry Greg. I tried to help but every time I even mention Sherlock's name he shuts down. You know how he can be. I'm sorry.”_

 

It hadn't eased his mind at all. Greg knew how important John was to Sherlock. He also knew John had been the main reason for Sherlock's deceit and apparent suicide. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it himself but John had taken it hard, not ready to forgive Sherlock or even hear him out.

 

“ _He lied to me, Greg. To us! He let us morn for two years!”_

 

Worry had been eating away at him and he'd gotten to the point of calling Mycroft. If anyone knew what was going on it would be him but he hadn't been able to go through with it. The brother's had always had a complicated relationship and after Sherlock's return, it had been worse. Sherlock hardly talked to anyone these days, avoiding his brother at all costs and Greg hadn't had the heart to ask why. Not that Sherlock would share, the man was even more closed off than before.

 

That's why the text had Greg so worried.

 

He stops in front of Sherlock's bedroom door, reaching out a hand but pulling it back instantly. It seems wrong and intrusive to step inside Sherlock's personal space. So instead he knocks twice, calling out to Sherlock again.

 

“Sherlock? Everything alright?”

 

A soft sound reaches Greg's ears but he can't understand it.

 

“Sherlock. I'm coming in.”

 

His hand shakes a second before he grabs the knob, opening the door determinedly and clicking on the light switch. A sob fills the space up and Greg's eyes land on the bundle on the floor.

 

“Sherlock! My god, are you-”

 

He gets on his knees next to the man, taking him in with his eyes and turning his hands into fists. Somehow he knows touching Sherlock would be a bad move. The man had always been weird around touch.

 

“ _It's called personal space, Lestrade.”_

 

“ _I know Sherlock, but why are you always invading mine?”_

 

Sherlock was curled up on his side in a fetus position, shivering all over. His eyes were closed and he was gasping for air, hands pulling his hair hard. Greg didn't know how long Sherlock had been lying there but his nose was red and his face too pale.

 

“Sherlock? Can- can you hear me?”

 

Greg whispers, even though he wants to scream. His stomach drops as Sherlock curled into himself even more and he reaches out a hand. He lets out a breath, his hand trembling as he gently touches some of Sherlock's curls, doing his best to avoid the man's fingers. He now notices strands of hair lying near the man and he feels sick, taking a large gulp of air to steady himself.

 

“Sherlock. It's okay, I'm right here. I'm here okay, it's going to be all right. Sherlock?”

 

He runs his hand down Sherlock's curls to the man's shoulder, adding gentle pressure to it as Sherlock starts crying. There is no sound, just tears running down the man's face and falling to the ground. He moves closer, his knees protesting from being on the hard floor but he ignores it. Sherlock feels cold, still shivering and Greg looks around for something to lay over the man.

 

He gets up, pulling a blanket from the bed and getting back down next to Sherlock.

 

“Sherlock. I'm going to put this blanket over you. You're freezing and you need to warm up. I'm putting it over you on the count of three. Okay?”

 

Greg waits for a second before he counts. On three he covers Sherlock up with the blanket and he notices the flinch going through Sherlock's body. It breaks his heart all over again and he touches the man's shoulder once, giving it a light squeeze before talking. It's not easy keeping his voice low and pleasant, worry creeping into his words but after what feels like a lifetime Sherlock's facial features seem to relax. It isn't much, but it's a sign the man can at least hear him now.

 

“It's okay Sherlock. It's just me here. Lestrade. You're in your flat in Baker Street. I got your text. Do you remember sending it to me?”

 

A sound comes out of Sherlock's mouth and Greg feels some of the worry ease out of him. He places a hand on Sherlock's fingers that are still pulling at his hair.

 

“It's fine now Sherlock. I'm here and you're not alone. Can you say something for me?”

 

Sherlock's body tenses up again, his hands pulling at his curls and Greg curses himself as he shushes Sherlock.

 

“It's okay. You don't have to. At least I know you can hear me now. Can you relax your fingers for me, Sherlock? Take your time.”

 

Greg holds his breath, heart hammering away as he removes his own hand. Sherlock's scalp is bright red and he closes his eyes for a second. He loves Sherlock's hair. It had been the third thing that stood out to Greg went they'd first met. After the man's beautiful eyes and frightening intelligence. Seeing Sherlock hurt himself like this made Greg's stomach twist into knots.

 

“That's good. That's great, Sherlock.”

 

Greg feels like crying when Sherlock removes his hands, balling his hands up into fists and getting them before his mouth. His eyes are still closed but he's breathing less hard, chest going up and down at a semi-normal pace.

 

“We need to get you off the floor Sherlock. The blanket can't be helping that much?”

 

A twitch of Sherlock's head and Greg takes that as a victory. It's more then he's gotten since entering Sherlock's bedroom. The man is still curled up around himself, trying to be as small as possible but the shaking has subsided.

 

“Can you stand up for me?” Greg waits, watching Sherlock closely, trying to see if he has other injuries. Ever since Sherlock had come back from the dead he'd been more reckless. Doing stupid and dangerous things that made Greg wonder if the man had a deathwish. He didn't know what had happened in those two years but little things told him Sherlock had changed. He was less loud, more cautious around people while at the same time jumping off buildings and going after armed criminals alone. He snapped when people stood too close, flinched from sounds and certain noises and never spend much time with his friends alone.

 

“Sherlock? I need to know if you can stand up.” Greg bites his lip, gears inside his head turning as Sherlock stays in place, light shivers going through his body, his face striking with tears.

 

“Okay. I know speaking is difficult for you right now so let's try something else.” Greg runs a hand through his hair, feeling a bit foolish for talking to Sherlock like this. Any minute now he expects the man to snap at him, to see that famous eye roll of his. Yet nothing like that happens and Greg nods to himself.

 

“If you can stand up then blink once with your eyes. Think you can do that, Sherlock? Blink once for yes?”

 

Greg feels like letting out a yell of victory when Sherlock blinks his eyes once. Instead, he takes another breath and lets it out slowly.

 

“Can you stand Sherlock?”

 

He waits for about five seconds and Greg's spirit breaks as Sherlock doesn't blink. This isn't good at all and for a second he panics. Maybe he needs to call an ambulance? Get Sherlock to the hospital and have professionals look out for him.

 

“ _But he texted you.”_ A voice inside his head whispers and Greg closes his eyes. He can't do this to Sherlock. The man trusts him enough to ask for help and he's going to do his best to help Sherlock.

 

He opens his eyes, determined to see this through as another shiver runs down Sherlock's body. He needs to get off this floor now.

 

“Can I carry you, Sherlock?”

 

It feels like an hour before Sherlock blinks once and Greg can feel his arse get cold as he waits next to him.

 

“Okay. I'm going to get up. Don't panic, I'm not going anywhere.”

 

He places his hand on Sherlock's shoulder as soon as he's up, his knees protesting from all the abuse they've endured so far.

 

“You'll need to help me, Sherlock. I'll pick you up and lay you down on your bed. Okay?”

 

Another blink, faster this time and Greg gets into a squad. Sherlock reaches out his arms, eyes still closed and then Greg holds him in his arms, feeling how cold Sherlock is.

 

“Dammit, Sherlock.” He whispers, turning around and walking to the right side of the bed. The nightstand is full of books and papers so it's clear it's Sherlock's preferred side. Sherlock is tense in Greg's arms but he keeps his arms wrapped around Greg's neck.

 

“Almost there, Sherlock. You can let go now.”

 

Sherlock curls up in a ball, clinging to the blanket and Greg wants to wrap himself around the man to protect him. He looks young and vulnerable, his face paler than ever before.

 

“I'll just pull up the sheets to cover you. Is it okay if I turn up the heating here?”

 

Another blink and Greg moves, turning up the heating and taking the time to pull the curtains closed. He hears a sound behind him and turns, walking back to Sherlock side and standing next to him.

 

“It's going to heat up soon. You scared me, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock's face changes, a guilty expression on it and Greg sighs. He feels 50 years older, not sure what to do now.

 

“Can you say something, Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock's body tenses instantly, closing his eyes tightly and Greg curses himself again. Somehow he needs to hear Sherlock's voice. Know the man is still inside there.

 

“It's – it's fine if you can't Sherlock. Don't worry about it, this is working too.”

 

Sherlock relaxes, opening his eyes fully for the first time and Greg breathes easier. They are clear and focused but there's also traces of guilt in them and Greg smiles, wanting to comfort him.

 

“Can I sit down on the bed next to you?”

 

Sherlock blinks once and Greg sits down, keeping space between them. Sherlock is bundled up in the sheets, guilt, and tension in his expression but his color is starting to come back. The man doesn't keep eye contact for long, looking at a spot near Greg's arm.

 

“Sherlock. You need to stop doing that.” Sherlock's eyes snap back to his, a frown forming and Greg points towards the man's mouth.

 

“Your gnawing on your lip and it's bleeding. Please stop.”

 

Sherlock blinks his eyes rapidly before licking his lips and cringing.

 

“I'll get something to clean it up. Be right back.”

 

Greg starts getting up but Sherlock reaches out, grabbing him by the arm firmly. His eyes are wide as he shakes his head from left to right, clinging to Greg's arm with all his strength.

 

“Sherlock! Hey, hey it's fine. I'm not leaving, just getting something from the bathroom. Sherlock. Sherlock!”

 

Greg places his hand on Sherlock's, letting out a sound as Sherlock's nails dig into his skin.

 

“Stop Sherlock, you're starting to hurt me.” Greg squeezes Sherlock's hand, not trying to pull out of Sherlock's grip but focusing on staying calm. “Calm down Sherlock. I'm not leaving you. Please let go of me.”

 

He looks into Sherlock's eyes, keeping his hand on Sherlock's and he sees the moment Sherlock comes back to himself. His eyes go wide, going from Greg's face to their hands. Sherlock's face changes from confused to horrified and he lets go of Greg's arm as if he's been holding a snake.

 

“It's fine, Sherlock. I'm okay.”

 

Sherlock lets out a sound, his eyes stormy and Greg sighs before holding up his arm.

 

“It's not that bad Sherlock. It stings, yes. But I'm okay. I promise.”

 

Sherlock opens and closes his mouth, eyes pleading and Greg reaches out a hand for Sherlock to take, giving an encouraging nod as Sherlock hesitates.

 

“It's not your fault Sherlock. I. I don't really know what's going on but I'm not leaving.”

 

Gratitude is all over Sherlock's face and Greg squeezes the man's hand, feeling how fragile it is. The color on Sherlock's cheeks is almost back to normal but his fingers are still freezing and he lets go, holding up the covers a bit.

 

“Come on, back under the blankets. I'm going to get a few things to take care of that lip. Okay?”

 

Sherlock nods as he fixes his eyes on the wall opposite him. Greg gets up slowly, knees popping again and Sherlock's head turns to look at him, eyes squinted as he goes over Greg's body.

 

“The pleasures of getting older.”

 

Greg smiles as Sherlock frowns before shaking his head, a light blush on his cheeks.

 

“I think that's the first compliment you've ever given me Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock rolls his eyes, features tired and Greg smiles again before heading to the bathroom to get some supplies.

 

He finds a basin and a washcloth, filling the basin with luke hot water. He's almost sure he saw a smile forming on Sherlock's mouth just now and it's a sign to Greg that he's doing something right. He's still freaked out about what just happened, not completely sure where it came from and he takes a few breaths in and out to steady himself. He doesn't want to worry Sherlock. The man is embarrassed enough as it is and he needs Greg to be strong.

 

He just hopes he can be strong long enough.

 


	2. Chapter 2

\--Chapter2--

 

Sherlock opens his eyes when Greg comes back into the bedroom, doing his best to not spill water on the floor as he makes it to Sherlock's side, placing the basin on the floor. He sits down next to Sherlock, taking the man in closely and seeing the exhaustion on his face. Sherlock's eyes are droopy, fighting sleep and he moves slowly when Greg asks him to sit up a bit.

 

“Will make it easier to clean your lip. I promise it won't take long.”

 

Sherlock nods, eyes going all over the place but not meeting Greg's gaze and Greg reaches out a hand, placing it on Sherlock's leg above the blankets to catch the man's attention.

 

“You don't need to be ashamed Sherlock. I promise.”

 

Sherlock's body tenses so Greg removes his hand, suddenly feeling useless and sad. He reaches down to take the washcloth, wringing it out to get some of the water out and startles when a hand is placed on his arm.

 

Sherlock opens his mouth to say something, the words seeming to stick on his tongue and he lets out a huff in frustration, squeezing Greg's arm.

 

“It's okay. Don't force yourself, Sherlock. Can I?”

 

He holds up the washcloth in question and Sherlock blinks his eyes while nodding his head. Greg gently wipes away the blood on Sherlock's lip, seeing that the man has his eyes closed and he rinses out the cloth before washing Sherlock's face, getting rid of the tears and dipping it dry.

 

“That's it. All done. How are you feeling?”

 

Sherlock opens his eyes, scrunching up his nose and Greg lets out a laugh.

 

“That good ey? Here, press this on your lip.”

 

Greg gives Sherlock his handkerchief and Sherlock presses it to his lip, gaze screaming 'thank you'.

 

“I'll just go clean this up. Be back in about 5 minutes.”

 

Greg goes to the bathroom, getting rid of the dirty water and then stops. Sherlock had been shivering from the cold just seconds ago but he'd also been wearing at least three layers of clothes. He'd seen the beginning blush on the man's cheeks and Greg had a feeling it wasn't just from embarrassment or shame. He filled the basin with water again, adding a fair amount of soap before taking out a new cloth and towel.

 

If Sherlock had been sweating then he probably felt even worse. Greg certainly hated the feeling of drying sweat on his body and he had a feeling Sherlock hated being unclean even more. You wouldn't say it from seeing his living spaces but when it came to grooming and personal hygiene, Sherlock was close to obsessed with it. He wasn't sure how the man would take his offer but Greg wanted to help, so he collected all his things, and his courage, and made it back to Sherlock's bedroom.

 

Sherlock's eyes are closed when he comes back inside and Greg places everything down on the ground before clearing his throat. Sherlock startles, blinking his eyes rapidly as they find Greg standing near his bed and he lets out a relieved sound.

 

“It's just me Sherlock. I was wondering if-”

 

He sits down slowly, holding up the cloth and towel and sees the confusion in Sherlock's gaze. Sherlock opens his mouth but Greg jumps in, nerves eating away at his courage from seconds ago.

 

“I thought it would be nice to clean up a bit. But maybe it's too weird.” Greg bites his lip, bringing his arms down, feeling like a fool as Sherlock tilts his head, squinting his eyes. “I. I know people can sweat even when they are cold and you are wearing a lot of clothes and now with the heating up and everything-”

 

Greg stops. Words leaving him as Sherlock takes him in closely. There is a gleam of caution in his eyes and Greg doesn't even know what to say to that. It's not like he wants to see Sherlock naked or take advantage of the situation!

 

He's about to speak up, irritation running through his body when Sherlock's hand peeks out from under the covers and touches Greg's arm.

 

“I.” Hearing that tiny word out of Sherlock's mouth is like a buzz of electricity going through Greg. It's scratchy and soft but it's there and Greg looks at Sherlock with new energy. Sherlock swallows, a frown forming between his brows before he coughs.

 

“I w-would-” Another cough and Greg places his supplies next to him on the bed, covering Sherlock's hand with its own. He's glad to notice his fingers aren't so cold anymore and he gives a light squeeze, encouraging Sherlock to go on. “ I would l-like that.”

 

“Okay, good.” Greg let's out a breath he doesn't even know he's been holding as Sherlock sits up more, taking away the blanket on his shoulder and pushing down the covers to expose his chest. It's only now Greg notices Sherlock is wearing his purple shirt, the one that makes his pale skin look like marble. It's also the one that you think the buttons will pop off at any time but when Greg looks closely he sees that's not the case now and he frowns.

 

“E- eaten has been difficult.” Sherlock's voice makes him look up, seeing the shame in the man's eyes and he curses himself for being so easy to read.

 

“It's okay. You-you don't need to explain Sherlock. What you've been through-” Greg stops, letting out a breath. Maybe this isn't the best time to talk about all this?

 

“It's b- been hell. But-but worth it. In, in the end.”

 

Sherlock's speech is fumbling and slow but it's music to Greg's ears. Exhausting is visible all over Sherlock's face and Greg snaps back to attention.

 

“We can talk about that later if you like. Right now let's get you freshened up, okay?”

 

Sherlock nods and Greg gives a smile, he's still nervous and a bit unsure but Sherlock starts opening the buttons of his shirt without hesitation and Greg takes the cloth to get it wet.

 

He needs a second when he looks back at Sherlock and is met with a pale and very naked chest. He's never seen Sherlock like this. Always dressed immaculate and looking perfect, even if he's just wearing his pajamas and dressing gown. He swallows, feeling his face flame up as he takes in the tiny, almost golden colored, hairs on Sherlock's chest. The man's nipples are hard and for a second Greg wants to lean in and place his mouth over it to suckle.

 

“Lestrade?”

 

Sherlock's voice snaps him out of his trance, focusing on the task at hand and trying not to read too much into Sherlock's gaze.

 

“Do you need help?”

 

Drops of water are falling on the bed and Greg takes the towel to try and protect the sheets from further damage. Sherlock's face falls, eyes full of displeasure and Greg's stomach drops. What has he done wrong?

 

“I. I don't think I'll be able to-”

 

A frustrated huff follows Sherlock's words and Greg's heart skips a beat as realization dawns.

 

“That's okay Sherlock. I'm here to help. Tell me- Tell me the second you feel uncomfortable okay.”

 

“It's already too late for t-that.” Sherlock tries to smile but Greg sees the unease in the man's gaze and the tension in his body. He takes a deep breathe, letting it out slowly as he brings his hand up to Sherlock's shoulder, going down to the man's hand and back again.

 

“The water isn't too hot?”

 

“No.” It comes out like a sigh and Greg curses himself for reacting so strongly too it. This is not the time or place and he concentrated on his work, rinsing out the cloth before going to the other arm and doing the same. Sherlock's eyes are closed now, his face relaxed and body less stiff.

 

“F-feels good.”

 

The situation shouldn't be such a turn on and Greg closes his eyes for a second, dropping the cloth in the water. He opens his eyes again, taking the towel and stopping to look at Sherlock. Even now, tired, pale and thin he's beautiful and Greg let's out a sigh, shaking his head before toweling Sherlock chest off.

 

“Everything okay, Lestrade?”

 

Sherlock is watching him with curiosity and Greg looks up, giving a smile that hopefully doesn't show Sherlock what he's thinking about. It's pathetic really. He knows that, deep down he knows that, but he still can't help the fact that he's in love with Sherlock.

It doesn't even matter that the man is out of his league, or that he's much younger and smarter than Greg. He knows he's not Sherlock's type, too big, too brown-haired and too fat. Sherlock had dated a few people and those had looked nothing like Greg. More like supermodels or A star Hollywood actors. It all came down to logic and common sense that Greg didn't stand a chance but that didn't stop his mind from playing tricks with him. And it didn't stop his body from reacting to seeing Sherlock half-naked and wet.

 

“Lestrade? Are you sure you're okay?”

 

“Yes.” Sherlock raises an eyebrow at him and it's the most Sherlockian thing he's seen the man do all night he can't even be angry about it.

 

“It's just been a long day Sherlock. Nothing to worry about. Okay, time to do your back.”

 

“I.” Greg lays down the towel, seeing Sherlock's worried, close to, panicked look.

 

“Sherlock? What's wrong? Did I do something?” Greg reaches out to touch Sherlock's arm but decides against it when Sherlock wraps his arms around himself. Greg can see goosebumps all over his arms and he reaches for the discarded blanket.

 

“Here-” Sherlock shakes his head frantically, not meeting Greg's gaze and Greg's worry just amplifies when he sees the deep breaths Sherlock takes. In and out, in and out, in and out. It's almost the same as when he found him and Greg balls his hands into fists. His fingers are itching to touch Sherlock in some way, to give him comfort and drag him out of this new panic attack but before he can even finish his thought Sherlock moves.

 

“Sherlock! Don't go.” Greg's breath catches in his throat when his gaze lands on Sherlock's back. His stomach turns as his eyes go over the damage, seeing scars from knives and wipes.

 

“Oh my-” He almost throws up when he sees the scars of cigarette burns. Five perfectly spaced out burns right above Sherlock's arse.

 

“Like I s-said. It's been h-hell.”

 

Sherlock's voice is barely understandable and Greg feels his eyes sting as he takes in Sherlock's back. The damage is significant as if not an inch has been left untouched and he swallows back his words. Saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't seem nearly enough. What can he even say to this?

 

“If you don't-” Sherlock turns his head to look over his shoulder for a second.” If you don't want to continue I understand Lestrade. I know it's not-” Sherlock's shoulders sag, stretching out the scars on his back and Greg snaps back into focus. He shakes his head, willing away the images that come to mind of what types of weapons were used and how much Sherlock has suffered.

 

“No. It's-” Greg swallows away the bile that's rising up. It's not fine, it's anything but fine and anger and guilt go through him as he blinks his eyes. None of this would have happened if Greg hadn't lost his faith in Sherlock. He'd been so stupid to let Moriarty play with his mind, letting himself believe for a second that Sherlock had made it all up. That he would be capable of being an evil mastermind criminal.

 

“Le-Lestrade?”

 

Sherlock has half turned, back hidden from view and a pair of unsure eyes meet Greg's. Sherlock is gnawing on his lip again, scratching his left wrist and he gives a half-hearted smile.

 

“You don't have to stay, Lestrade. I know I'm repulsive. I shouldn't have texted you.” Sherlock is shrinking before Greg's eyes and he reaches gently, placing a hand on Sherlock's naked shoulder, watching the man's reaction closely. Sherlock's eyes go wider, biting his lip hard and Greg shakes his head.

 

“You'll make your lip bleed again. Please-” He moves his hand from Sherlock's shoulder to the man's wrist. “Stop.” Sherlock blinks, looking down at his wrist and seeing the beginning redness on it.

 

“You can always text me Sherlock, or call, or send a raven with a message.” Greg gives a smile as Sherlock huff out a laugh.

 

“I mean it Sherlock. You can always reach out to me.” Greg gives the man's hand a pat, seeing the beginning of a smile on Sherlock's face. It eases some of Greg's tension, helping to deal with all the new information he's gotten so far. He'd sort of suspected Sherlock's mission had been a dangerous one. Going after Moriarty's network couldn't be anything else but Greg had also thought Mycroft would be there to watch out for his younger brother.

 

Sherlock let's out a sigh and Greg looks down, seeing how his hands have gone into fists.

 

“It's over Lestrade. I don't regret any of my actions. It had to be done to keep-”

 

“To keep John safe.” His voice is too hard and he knows it but he can't feel sorry about it. They'd all been shocked and angry when Sherlock first came back but everyone had turned around rather quickly, happy to have their friend back. Everyone, except John. Seeing Sherlock's scars, the evidence of what he's been through makes it harder for Greg to feel compassion for John. Sherlock went to hell and beyond, and John didn't even speak with him when he learned Sherlock was back. Had only given Sherlock a bleeding nose and a cold shoulder after that. It didn't seem right at all.

 

“Not just John.” Sherlock looks at Greg with confusion, taking the blanket Greg offered before and draping it over him before moving and facing Greg full on. “I did it to protect all of you, not just John. You were all in danger. Moriarty had a price on all your heads. John, Mds Hudson, you.”

 

“Me? Why would there be a price on my head?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

 --Chapter3--

 

Greg blinks in confusion, squinting his eyes when he sees Sherlock's 'don't be an idiot' look. Sherlock's face changes again and Greg feels a stab in his heart because of it. Sherlock's eyes are big and dark, anguish clearly visible.

 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, it's okay. Nothing is going to happen to you. Breathe.” He takes the man's hands in his own and almost falls from the bed when Sherlock breaks out of the hold and punches Greg in the shoulder.

 

“Oi!”

 

“How can you be such an idiot!”

 

Sherlock is out of bed and moving back and forth before Greg can process what is going on. He rubs his shoulder where Sherlock punched him, confusion taking over when a pair of frustrated eyes find him.

 

“Some days I seriously worry about your intellectual capabilities Lestrade! Of course, there was a price on your head! How can you not- You are my- We've known- Agr.” Sherlock throws his hands up in the air, the blanket falling to the ground and Greg's mouth drops. He knows he's probably looking like a complete idiot cause Sherlock's frustration is even higher, letting out another sigh.

 

“You are part of my life Lestrade.” Sherlock crosses his arms and Greg can see the goosebumps form.

 

“Get back into bed Sherlock. Or at least wrap the blanket around you.”

 

Sherlock grumbles but does take the blanket, wrapping it around him tightly before crossing his arms again, eyes firing daggers at Greg.

 

“You are part of my life Lestrade.” Sherlock's voice is loud, a blush forming on his cheeks as he keeps eye contact with Greg. Greg nods, still too confused to say anything and Sherlock lets out another huff.

 

“Unbelievable. You've known me for years now Lestrade. We work together on an almost daily basis. You came to visit when I was in rehab. You're here now, taking care of me. Yet you can't comprehend why Moriarty would put a price on your head?”

 

“I.” Greg frowns and he hears Sherlock let out a curse before climbing back into bed but Greg's mind is working, trying to make sense of Sherlock's words. Of course, he's a part of the man's life, but he's never considered himself a friend of Sherlock. More a convenience, the DI that made it easy for Sherlock to consult on cases. They talk and banter but it's not like they go for meals together, or spend time outside of work with each other. Sixty percent of the time Sherlock is complaining about how slow Greg is, how much of an idiot he is. They get along but Greg's always had the idea that Sherlock tolerates him till someone else comes along. A better DI, or someone like John. Someone that catches Sherlock's attention and fascination and that can really keep up.

 

“You really think that. Lestrade, you-”

 

He's startled out of his train of thought by two hands on his face. Sherlock's eyes are moving fast as if taking in every inch of Greg's face. Greg can feel his skin warm up under the man's touch, can see the specks of green in Sherlock's eyes and he tries to pull away. Being this close to Sherlock is nerve-wracking and Sherlock's expression changes again as he drops his hands down.

 

“I've always considered you a friend Lestrade. I thought that was-” Sherlock stops, biting his bottom lip as he looks away.

 

“Sherlock, I.” Greg swallows, his stomach acting up as he can see the walls come up. It's something Sherlock does, closing off when things get too emotional and Greg doesn't know how to stop it. He reaches out tentatively but Sherlock pulls away, wrapping the blanket tighter around him.

 

“Please, don't.”

 

“You don't have to stay Lestrade.” Sherlock's voice is hard and unnatural, throwing Greg a quick look. The half tried smile on Sherlock's mouth makes Greg want to cry and he reaches out again, stopping just before he can touch the man's thigh.

 

“I want to stay Sherlock. I still haven't finished with-” Greg gestures towards the forgotten cloth and Sherlock's expression is one of pure sadness before he gets a hold of himself. He turns his head, eyes meeting Greg's but it's like looking at a wall.

 

“It's not necessary Lestrade. I'm fine now. You can go.”

 

The dismissal makes Greg's stomach turn and he's up and halfway across the room when anger takes hold of his better judgment.

 

“No.” He stalks back to the bed, seeing Sherlock's eyes widen in surprise as he sits back down, taking Sherlock's hands in his and bringing their faces close. “We are not doing this Sherlock. Not tonight, not after everything- I'm not leaving you.”

 

“Lestrade, please.” Sherlock's voice is soft and pleading but Greg shakes his head, holding Sherlock more firmly, keeping the man's gaze. He can see Sherlock's attempt to control himself again, to build up his walls and Greg let's out a growl as he shakes his head.

 

“Why do you always do that? Cut me out like that.” Greg clarifies as Sherlock gives him a confused look. He let's go of one of Sherlock's hands, touching the man's cheek after a second of hesitation. He can feel Sherlock's lashes touch his fingers as the man closes his eyes, trying and failing to not lean into the touch.

 

“I'm sorry, Sherlock. I didn't know- I mean, I didn't want to add labels to us. I like having you in my life, Sherlock. As your DI or as your friend, it doesn't matter.”

 

“It matters to me.” Sherlock wakes from his trance, pulling his head back and breaking out of Greg's hold. His eyes are wide, shooting fire and Greg has never seen him this beautiful before.

 

“It matters to me Lestrade. Moriarty he, he threatened you. What was I suppose to do? I can't lose you. You're the only one who's always there for me. Who doesn't see me as a smartarse or a loser or a freak. You're the only one who doesn't want anything from me, who doesn't ask me to change or behave myself. You- you understand me. I. I can't- How can you not _know_?”

 

Sherlock's shoulders sag and the blanket drops down again. It's almost impossible not to look at a half naked Sherlock and Greg can feel his face flame up. It's hard concentrating on their conversation, Greg's body betraying him like this and he feels sick to his stomach for his reaction.

 

“I'm sorry Sherlock.” He whispers, afraid that it will break the spell and Sherlock will ask him to leave again. “I should have known better. It's just that- well, you don't always make it easy to figure you out.”

 

“You've known me for years, Lestrade.”

 

“And yet you can still be a mystery at times.” Greg smiles when Sherlock huffs, his face a soft pink as he blinks his eyelashes. The silence becomes awkward fast and then Greg's eyes land on the cloth and the water, patiently waiting for them.

 

“I should probably clean up if you don't-. The water is going to be cold by now anyway.” Greg rambles, not meeting Sherlock's eyes. The atmosphere in the room is serious and it's something Greg isn't used to with Sherlock. Of course, they have serious moments together but those revolve around cases and things they need to work on. They hardly ever talk about feelings and Greg can't even recall if he's ever seen Sherlock cry up to this point.

 

He wasn't even sure the man considered him a friend till a few minutes ago.

 

“Can, can you wash- Please?” Sherlock's voice is so hesitant it almost breaks him in half when their eyes meet. Seeing Sherlock unsure and lost is unsettling and he can see Sherlock's face fall instantly. Before the man can leave again Greg nods his head, bringing the cloth up with a smile.

 

“Of course Sherlock, anything you need.” He gets to work, not able to not look at all of Sherlock's scars and feelings of guilt and anger go through him as he dries Sherlock off.

 

“We should get you some fresh clothes, something warm. Do you even own something like that?”

 

“I'm not an alien Lestrade. Second drawer.” Sherlock rolls his eyes and Greg gets up, pulling out nightwear that's so soft to the touch Greg is sure it's made especially for Sherlock.

 

“Can you get me a pair of socks too? First drawer, left side. The bordeaux ones please.”

 

“You have Christmas themed socks?” Greg holds up a pair of red and green socks, tiny Christmas trees on them and Sherlock's blush is adorable as he huffs.

 

“Don't lecture me on bad clothing items. I've seen that Harry Potter sweater remember?”

 

“Oi! Harry Potter is a classic.” Greg scowled, throwing the pair of bordeaux socks Sherlock's way and Sherlock's smile warms up his heart.

 

“Okay. I'll go take care of this and you can get changed.” He takes the basin, looking down at Sherlock in the bed with his cozy socks in hand and his heart clenches. _God, he's beautiful._

 

“Call out if you need help.” His voice skips as Sherlock looks at him, eyes wide and grateful and he curses himself mentally as he makes his way to the bathroom. He lets out a sigh of relief when he's away from Sherlock's prying gaze, hating himself for his thoughts and stupid ideas.

 

The man doesn't know anything about his feelings and Greg wants to keep it that way. He does his best to ignore them when he's around Sherlock. Trying to act professional but friendly as they work together. It's not been easy, especially when John came into the picture. The man was suddenly there, standing next to Sherlock's side and Greg is man enough to admit he's been jealous of that for a long time.

 

He can't be sure but he has a feeling Sherlock loved John at one point in time, not just as a friend but beyond that. Then Moriarty came and everything changed and now John is happily married to Mary. An event Sherlock wasn't invited for. He never says much about it but just mentioning John's name makes Sherlock tense, getting a certain look in his eyes that breaks Greg's heart. What Sherlock needs most right now is a friend. Someone who will stand by him and help him, no strings attached.

 

“Get a grip Lestrade. Pull it together. Sherlock needs a friend. That's all.”

 

He's never going to tell Sherlock his true feelings. Not just because of the fear of rejection but also because it would change everything. Sherlock would look at Greg and know and it wouldn't take long for Sherlock to be fed up with it. The idea of losing Sherlock again, maybe forever, is too much to bare and he splashes some water in his face, looking at himself in the mirror.

 

“A friend. Nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a holiday here so why not celebrate by given you another chapter of my Sherstrade care fic.  
>  ( I do love writing care fics like this, it's a nice way to slow them both them, for them to spend time together, be more vulnerable than normal. I've always had this idea that Greg would be able to handle Sherlock when he's vulnerable, not just 'the genius', but also 'Sherlock, the person'. I think in the show he never really tried that with John, always keeping parts of himself hidden when he noticed John was freaking out. Good thing I have fanfiction ;) ) 
> 
> Have a nice day and see you soon!


	4. Chapter 4

\--Chapter4--

 

When he steps back into the room, Sherlock has buried himself under his blankets. He looks young, eyes closed, curls falling over his cheeks Greg is about to turn and leave when Sherlock calls out to him.

 

“Don't go. P-please. I didn't mean it before.”

 

Sherlock looks away the second their eyes meet and Greg is next to Sherlock in seconds, sitting down on the bed.

 

“I wasn't going to leave you, Sherlock. Just wanted to give you your rest. You're tired.”

 

“Oh.” Sherlock's cheeks are pink and Greg can't stop a smile, even if his heart breaks. It's probably only the second time Sherlock has asked for his company and it brings him back to the early days. Sherlock was barely a grown up then, maybe they both were. Defiant and a smart arse, getting into trouble ever 5 minutes but something about him had compelled Greg to give him a chance. When Mycroft had come to take him home Greg had given Sherlock his card, telling the kid to call him when something was up.

 

“You should get some sleep.”

 

He places a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, feeling the bones underneath his palm and he wonders how little Sherlock has been eating now that John isn't around to nag him about it.

 

“I've tried Lestrade.” Sherlock's voice is soft and pleading and Greg pats the man's shoulder. “It's just been difficult eating. They, they had creative ways of keeping me in check.”

 

“Oh, Sherlock.” Greg's voice breaks down and Sherlock moves, Greg's hand dropping of his shoulder.

 

“It was worth it Lestrade. I don't need your pity.”

 

“It's not pity.” Greg shakes his head as Sherlock frowns, bringing his hands to his lap to prevent himself from touching Sherlock.

 

“It's compassion, Sherlock. Can't I have compassion for a friend?”

 

“You didn't even consider yourself a friend 15 minutes ago.” Sherlock's voice is hard but his eyes are unsure and Greg sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before meeting Sherlock's gaze again.

 

“Sherlock. I already said I'm sorry. Can that be enough for tonight?” Tiredness creeps into his voice and he looks at his watch, seeing it's close to 10 PM.

 

“I. Lestrade, I.”

 

“It's okay Sherlock. It's just been a long day and I get snappy when I'm hungry. Only ate a sandwich for lunch.”

 

“Oh.” Sherlock's face lights up in realization before falling down in sadness. He tries to hide it but it's all over his face and Greg reaches out a hand, relieved when Sherlock takes it.

 

“What's wrong, Sherlock?”

 

“You should go home. I mean, it's late and you're hungry and you have to work tomorrow and-”

 

“I actually don't. Wrote in some last minute vacation days. It's fine,” Greg smiles when Sherlock opens his mouth to protest. “I needed to take them and Sally will hold down the fort while I'm away.”

 

The surprise on Sherlock's face should be insulting but Greg just laughs. He's not known for taking time off but rules are rules and after Sherlock's text he'd gone to the Chief, explaining his situation and asking for some time off. Since he had to take his remaining days by the end of the year it hadn't been a problem.

 

“I do take time off, Sherlock.”

 

“Only because you have to.”

 

“I think the occasion called for it. Hey,” He places a hand on Sherlock's arm when his face falls again. “It's not wasted, Sherlock. I' rather spend my time with you then home alone, in front of the telly, counting away the hours.”

 

“You really need to get a life, Lestrade. Spending time with me is hardly fun.”

 

“Don't say that. I'm glad you texted me. The idea of you being alone-”

 

“I'm not alone. I have you.”

 

“You always will. Now, you really should get some sleep, Sherlock.” Greg get's up, his heart beating too fast because of Sherlock's words. Maybe it's the heaviness of the day, his lack of sleep and food but hearing those words out of the man's mouth fills Greg's heart and soul.

 

“Will you stay? There is food in the fridge and freezer. Mds Hudson always stocks it up even when I tell her not too. And John's room, I mean the second bedroom is free.”

 

“Are you sure? I don't want to-”

 

“Yes.” Sherlock squeezes his hand as he says it, his face determined and Greg feels a wave of relief go over him. He wasn't looking forward to going outside and driving all the way to his flat. A large part of him wants to stay here, keep an eye on Sherlock and make sure the man is safe. He meets Sherlock's gaze, seeing the delight grow in them as Greg makes up his mind and he can't help but smile.

 

“Okay. I'll take you up on your o-offer.” Greg jawns, covering his mouth with his hand before standing up, seeing the satisfied look in Sherlock's eyes.

 

“Get some sleep, Sherlock. I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything-”

 

“Then I know you'll be there.” Sherlock whispers gaze going down for a second as he wrings his hands together. It's tempting to ask Sherlock what had happened exactly. Something must have triggered all this but then Sherlock jawns deeply, eyes almost falling closed and he stops himself. There's always time to ask tomorrow if Sherlock will want to talk.

 

“Goodnight Sherlock.”

 

“Night Lestrade. Th-thank you.”

 

“Anytime Sherlock. Anytime.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know about you, but I really felt like a genius when I wrote this little part
> 
> “It's compassion, Sherlock. Can't I have compassion for a friend?"
> 
> “You didn't even consider yourself a friend 15 minutes ago.”
> 
> Don't know why, but I feel damn proud about that bit. 
> 
> Anyways, this week has been a bit 'blah', thanks to PMS, so why not share a chapter for other people having a 'blah' week. Maybe it will brighten the week up, even if it's just a little bit. 
> 
> See you soon.


	5. Chapter 5

\--Chapter5--

 

“What the- Sherlock! Why are you out of bed? You should be resting.”

 

“I'm fine Le-Lestrade. I have work to-”

 

“Watch out!” Greg can just catch Sherlock as he's about to stumble, feeling how fragile and cold his body is. It has been a short night but the bed upstairs had been comfortable enough and Greg had soon drifted to sleep.

 

He'd woken up around 8, feeling refreshed enough to face the day ahead. He'd checked in on Sherlock, only seeing a bunch of curls peek out from under the sheets and it had warmed his heart, and another part of his body he didn't want to think too much about.

 

“Sherlock, you really shouldn't be up right now. God, you're freezing.” Greg scowls, guiding Sherlock to the sofa as he searches for a blanket to throw over the man. Sherlock's face is rimpled from sleep but he does look awake. More awake then Greg feels.

 

“I have work to do Lestrade, I can't stay-”

 

“Where's your dressing gown?” Greg cuts him off, irritation inside him slowly growing as he sees Sherlock shiver, hunching into himself.

 

“I. I don't know. Bathroom?”

 

“Already checked there.” Greg shakes his head, his voice is a bit harder then it should be and he sees the flinch it causes in Sherlock. His eyes go over the living room, desperate to get Sherlock covered up, and then he remembers the package he got this morning. He'd just finished up going to the toilet and washing his face when there'd been a knock on the door.

 

“Courtesy from Mr. Holmes.”

 

The man, big and broad, had held up a suitcase and turned and left before Greg could ask any questions or even say thank you. He went upstairs for the case now, rummaging around in the pants, shirts, and sweaters till he found the dressing gown at the bottom of the case.

 

“Here. This should do for now.” He throws the garment to Sherlock, seeing the confusion on his face and he lets out a sigh, trying to stop his irritation. He can't really pinpoint where it's coming from, just that he doesn't like seeing Sherlock out of bed already. “Courtesy of your brother.” Greg gestures towards the dressing gown, biting the inside of his cheek when he sees the displeasure on Sherlock's face.

 

“Put it on Sherlock. Now.”

 

“I'm not a child Lestrade.” Sherlock raises an eyebrow but does as Greg says, his displeasure clear on his face. Still, the moment he has it wrapped around him he lets out a sign and Greg has to look away to hide his smile.

 

He doesn't know how the older Holmes brother always seems to know they need help but he's glad for it. Even if Sherlock isn't, or at least pretends not to be. It had been heaven for Greg to be able to shower and put on fresh clothes this morning. They all were brand new and looked expensive but they were comfortable to wear. A perfect fit. He didn't want to think too much about that fact.

 

“How did he even know? Did you-”

 

“Of course not Sherlock. But your brother is part of the British Government so I think he knows a few things.”

 

“He _is_ the British Government.” Sherlock scowled, his nose wrinkled up as he buries himself deeper inside the dressing gown and Greg's heart skips a beat as he looks at him. He looks innocent and soft, more like a person then a genius consulting detective and Greg wants to treasure that. Ever since Sherlock came back he'd somehow been more of a mystery. He'd been kind but closed off, pulling up walls for everyone around him and some days it didn't seem like Sherlock was back at all.

 

“Of course he had to meddle,” Sherlock grumbles, playing with a stray curl as his eyes stay on a spot on the floor. “He's probably thrilled about this. Baby brother not able to take care of himself. _Again_.” Sherlock's mouth goes down, shaking his head in anger and Greg sits down in the opposite sofa.

 

“I don't think-”

 

“He's always loved playing mum. Keeping an eye on me, making sure I don't get in trouble. Did he leave you a card?” Sherlock looks up, hand falling on his lap. “Did he apologize for the mess I made? Or maybe something along the lines of 'sorry you have to clean up my brother's mess.' He's probably gloating right now.”

 

Greg lets out a sign, his irritation getting the better of him again as Sherlock tilt his head, a knowing gleam in his eyes. There had been a card, placed on top of the clothes, written in Mycroft's elegant script.

 

Thank you for taking care of my brother. M.H

 

“Of course he did. Irritating know it all.”

 

“Yes, there was a card but it's not like you think.” It's the first time he feels the need to defend Mycroft Holmes. Yes, the man has some weird ways of looking out for his brother but over time Greg has come to learn that Mycroft would do almost anything to protect Sherlock.

 

“Hmn.” Sherlock huffs, disbelief on his face as he uncrosses his legs. “What does he want in return? Did he tell you?”

 

“He doesn't-”

 

“Cause he'll want something for this, I just know it.” Sherlock stands up, pacing the floor as the dressing gown floats behind him. It's a little too big for Sherlock. Greg has more bulk on his upper torso, but otherwise, it's not bad. Seeing Sherlock stand and pace before him makes Greg realize how thin the man is and some of his irritation comes back as Sherlock runs a hand through his hair before stopping in front of Greg with a questioning look.

 

“I asked what my brother wants in return for all this.” Sherlock gestures to Greg's clothes before gesturing to the dressing gown.

 

“I think you don't give your brother enough credit, Sherlock. He's doing his best. We all are.” The last part wasn't meant to be spoken out loud, but there's a tiny voice inside his head celebrating for letting it slip. There's a flash of guilt in Sherlock's eyes, a micro start of a flinch and Greg suddenly feels like a bastard.

 

“Sherlock.” Greg reaches out a hand, guiding Sherlock down to sit next to him. “I can't imagine what you've been through. Seeing your back last night I can't even-” Greg swallows, images coming to mind of that neat row of cigarette burns just above Sherlock's arse. Sherlock looks away, body tense and Greg takes Sherlock's hand in both of his, feeling how cold his fingers are.

 

“We are trying, Sherlock. Me. Your brother. Mds. Hudson. We're all trying to help-”

 

“Who says I need help?” Sherlock snaps his head up, eyes gleaming with something Greg can't name before pulling his hand away from under Greg's.

 

“We are here for you Sherlock.” Greg keeps his voice soft, not raising to Sherlock's bait. “I'm here for you. Even if, even if right now you don't feel like you need it.” He reaches for Sherlock's hand again, a stab of disappointment going through his heart when Sherlock pulls back.

 

“Last night was-”

 

“An inconvenience. I shouldn't have texted you or asked you to stay. You can leave now, I feel much-”

 

“Sherlock.” Greg does take Sherlock's hand then, tugging at it when the man tries to stand up. “Sherlock, stop.” He brushed his thumb over Sherlock's cheek once, lifting up the man's chin to make eye contact.

 

“You will never be an inconvenience, you hear me?” It's like I said last night, you will always have me to count on. You- I care for you, Sherlock.” Greg's stomach clenches as he drops his hand, watching Sherlock's face intently. He's not a master of deduction as Sherlock but he's been working with the man long enough now to see that his words are getting through.

 

“You _are_ my friend Sherlock. I'm sorry for my reaction last night, I didn't mean to upset you.” Greg squeezes Sherlock's hand, giving him an unsure smile as Sherlock stares back at him.

 

“Well, I. I don't make it easy for you to- well, to know that I. That I-” Sherlock stops, biting his lip and Greg can see the beginning of a blush start near Sherlock's neck. It's a soft pink, peeking out from under the dressing gown and Greg wants to lean forward and place a kiss on it. See how far down the blush can go.

 

 _Stop it right now!_ He yells himself back to order, clearing his throat as he focusses on Sherlock's face again but that makes it worse. Sherlock's expression is soft and open, his mouth a touch darker then before because of Sherlock biting it and Greg clears his throat again, squeezing Sherlock's hand and looking down at his lap as he feels his palms get warmer.

 

“Greg.” Sherlock moves, his knee touching Greg's, other hand reaching out and laying on Greg's knee. It's too warm all of a sudden, hard to breathe and when Sherlock says his name again Greg can only look up, caught in Sherlock's green-blue eyes.

 

“Sherlock, I don't think-”

 

“Stop talking,” Sherlock whispers, hand squeezing Greg's knee and then cool lips are on his and Greg can't think at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Harry Potter Hogwarts castle came in this week and it's perfection! It's one like this, https://www.amazon.com/Potter-Hogwarts-School-Electronic-Playset/dp/B00005NP4U but I got mine on Ebay and it's OMG, so perfect! 
> 
> Anyway, have a good weekend and I'll see you soon!


	6. Chapter 6

\--Chapter6--

 

It maybe lasts 5 seconds. Five seconds of heavenly bliss where Sherlock's lips are touching his and then Greg snaps back to reality. He gently pushes Sherlock away, seeing the beginning pout on the man's lips but Greg shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts into order.

 

“Sherlock.” He starts, but Sherlock lets out a discontent sound, eyes still closed as he leans forward again. Greg places a hand on Sherlock's chest, the other stroking Sherlock's heated cheek and then a pair of wide eyes find his.

 

“Why are you stopping me?”

 

“Cause now is not the time, Sherlock.” Greg whispers, afraid of breaking the moment, stroking Sherlock's skin with his thumb. He can feel Sherlock's heartbeat underneath his palm and there is want in Sherlock's eyes but Greg gentle shakes his head when Sherlock is about to protest, frown forming between his brows.

 

“It's not that I don't want to. I think you of all people can see that.” Greg gives a smile, seeing the confirmation in Sherlock's eyes. “But you've just been through one hell of a night and I don't want to take advantage of the situation Sherlock.”

 

“This is not some reaction to the stress Lestrade.” Sherlock pulls back, squinting his eyes at Greg but not removing his hand from Greg's knee. It feels warm and comfortable and Greg removes his hand from Sherlock's chest, placing it over the man's hand.

 

“I'm not saying it is. I'm just saying that now is not the time. You- you've been through a lot, Sherlock. It's only been months and-”

 

“I'm working on it.” There's a hard edge to Sherlock's voice and Greg swallows back his 'are you?'.”

 

“I'm- I'm going to therapy. Twice a week.” Sherlock turns his head, eyes going over to the window and Greg sucks in a breathe. Sherlock doesn't seem like the therapy type but then he remembers the scars on the man's back, how easily startled he can be and he nods his head.

 

“That's good Sherlock. Hey, look at me?”

 

Sherlock's eyes find his after a moment and Greg smiles, patting Sherlock's hand that is still on his knee.

 

“You don't have to be ashamed. You should do what helps you, Sherlock. No one is going to judge you for seeking help. It's working right?”

 

Sherlock nods his head and Greg gives another smile.

 

“Therapy isn't some magical formula. It takes time. Usually baby steps and it's not easy going through it.”

 

“It's like a new sort of hell,” Sherlock mumbles, but there's a glimmer in his eyes as he looks at Greg and Greg nods his head. He's been to therapy too, right after he'd first fired his gun. Most cops go a lifetime without needing to use it but Greg wasn't so lucky and it took a toll on him. Even though they proved it was self-defense and Greg had done everything by the book, taking a life was never easy and he'd needed someone to talk to who would listen and not judge him.

 

“Feels that way for a while. I'm glad you're- You know?” Greg takes Sherlock's hand, squeezing it tightly before placing a kiss on it and Sherlock nods, blush on his face a bit deeper.

 

“We should get you something to eat. You must be hungry by now.”

 

“Greg, I-” Sherlock stops, looking from Greg to the window and back.

 

“Don't apologize Sherlock. Like I said, it's not that I don't want to-”

 

“It just isn't the right time.” Sherlock mimics him, a gleam of disapproval in his tone before he sighs.

 

“Exactly.” Greg leans forward, placing a kiss on Sherlock's forehead before getting up.

 

“Okay. What do you want for breakfast?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Sherlock.” Greg suppresses a sigh as Sherlock leans back on the sofa, crossing his arms and not meeting Greg's gaze. He's always been weird about food, not eating for days when he's working on a case cause he's convinced it slows him down. It had seemed better for a while, with John being around and nagging Sherlock to eat. Clearly, Sherlock's gone to his old ways again.

 

“You need to eat.” Greg gestures to Sherlock but Sherlock still isn't looking at him, wrapping his dressing gown tightly around himself.

 

“Not eating makes you sleepy and cold. You are both of those.”

 

“Maybe if you'd kept kissing me I wouldn't be.” Sherlock looks up for a second, eyes going wide as if he's surprised himself and Greg can't do anything else but laugh. This is a side of Sherlock he hasn't seen before and it does wonderful things to his body, wanting to pick the man up and drag him to bed. The smile Sherlock gives him is soft and a little goofy and Greg takes a deep breathe, letting it out slowly before getting serious again.

 

“You still need to eat something Sherlock. You need the fuel. You look-”

 

_Skinny_. He stops himself just in time but there's a hint of hurt in Sherlock's eyes that goes away as fast as it came.

 

“I'm not a car, Lestrade. Besides, I have work to do and I can't think on a full stomach.”

 

“You still need maintenance, Sherlock. When is the last time you've eaten anything more than a cookie? No,” Greg shakes his head, bringing a finger up to shush Sherlock. “Cookies are not real food. The work can wait, Sherlock.”

 

“But I have-”

 

“It can wait.” Greg folds his arms, raising an eyebrow and Sherlock grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like 'You're not my father.”

 

He's about to say something along the lines of 'then stop being a brat' When Sherlock's stomach wakes up with a loud sound, filling up the living room and making Sherlock grumble even more.

 

“I think your engine is trying to say something, genius.”

 

“Stop looking so smug, Lestrade. It doesn't suit you.”

 

Sherlock's stomach rumbles again and Greg sees Sherlock's hand go towards it, a grimace on his face.

 

“Tell me again you don't need to eat.” Greg's smirk gets bigger as Sherlock uncurls himself and stands up, heading towards the kitchen.

 

“I'm not saying you need to eat a 4-course meal. I don't think your stomach could take it, to be honest. Seriously, when is the last time you ate?”

 

Greg sits Sherlock down on a chair, going to the fridge and getting out a glass of juice for the man. It's something to fill his stomach up and Sherlock takes it with a quick nod of his head, drinking tiny sips from it.

 

“I. I don't- Maybe 4 days?”

 

Greg can't stop a sound of disapproval coming out of him, his eyes going over Sherlock's frame as the man drinks from his juice, eyes staying on the table. A hint of irritation enters him again, seeing how pale and tired the man still looks.

 

“What's your favorite food?”

 

“Lestrade. I'm not a child. You don't have to bribe me with pancakes to get me to eat.” Sherlock's voice is full of frustration, his hand shaking a bit as he brings the glass to his lips and Greg sits down next to him, as close as he possibly can. Sherlock turns his head, surprise on his face before he schools his features back together.

 

“I know you're not a child Sherlock. I'm not trying to be your father either.” Greg raises an eyebrow, seeing Sherlock open and close his mouth. “But I'm looking at you and I can tell you haven't been paying your body enough attention. Your brain can only work when your body is healthy too. You know that Sherlock. And if I need to make pancakes to get you to eat something, cause you will eat something, then I'm fucking doing it.”

 

Greg takes Sherlock's hand, bringing it to his mouth before whispering. “I've just got you back, Sherlock. Don't make me lose you again.” He looks up into Sherlock's eyes, giving him a watery smile before placing a kiss on Sherlock's knuckles and taking a moment to calm himself.

 

“I. I like pancakes.”

 

“Good.” Greg stands up, taking the glass from the table and filing it again. Sherlock gives him a smile as he takes the offered drink, taking a sip and rolling his eyes as Greg watches him.

 

“You're not going to watch me like that the whole time are you?”

 

“Will you be a good boy?”

 

“Oh please.” Sherlock rolls his eyes again but Greg can see the blush start in his neck and he reaches out to run his hands down Sherlock's curls. Something inside his gut flips as Sherlock looks up through his lashes at him before whispering.

 

“I'll always be your good boy.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

\--chapter7--

 

Greg sucks in a breathe as Sherlock's face goes a deep red, casting his eyes down on the table. Greg's cock is very, very pleased with Sherlock's words and he opens his mouth to say something, anything, to break this strange tension.

 

“I'm sorry.” Sherlock whispers, hardly opening his mouth to get the words out and Greg can see the man wring his hands together in a repetitive motion.

 

“Hey,” Greg sits back down again, taking Sherlock's hands in his, seeing Sherlock's knee bounce up and down as his chest heaves. From here Greg can see that Sherlock's blush has reached the tip of his ears and he strokes away some stray curls, placing his hand on Sherlock's cheek.

 

“Look at me, sweetheart. Please?”

 

Sherlock shakes his head, eyes going from Greg back to the table and Greg moves his thumb, feeling the heated skin underneath his fingers.

 

“You don't need to hide Sherlock. Please, look at me.”

 

“Greg, I-” Sherlock's eyes go back to his, a moment longer than before and Greg gives him a smile, still caressing Sherlock's cheek. It takes a few more seconds but then Sherlock turns his head, meeting Greg's gaze head-on and Greg drops his hand to take Sherlock's, keeping the smile on his face.

 

“It's fine, sweetheart.” He brings Sherlock's trembling hands to his, kissing every knuckle and he hears the sharp intake of breath. “I promise it's fine. It's my fault really. I started it.” Greg's smile goes crooked and some of the tension in Sherlock's face eases.

 

“You liked it. When, when I said I'd be your good boy.” Sherlock's words are hesitant, eyes going from Greg to the table and back and Greg doesn't know what to say for a moment. He said it as a joke, sort of, but hearing Sherlock's answer made him conjure up images of them in bed, Sherlock moaning and wriggling underneath him, promising to be a good boy.

 

“You like it.”

 

Greg blinks his eyes, seeing the knowing look in Sherlock's eyes and now it's his turn to blush. He's always been protective over his lovers, wanting to take care for them in any way possible and something about Sherlock brings that instinct more to the surface. Last night hadn't been easy but Greg had felt useful and needed. He'd worried that would all be gone this morning, seeing how close off Sherlock had been the moment he'd entered the living room.

 

“I'm sorry Sherlock. It's not my intention to- I mean, I would never take-”

 

“I know that.” Sherlock stops him, voice firm and sure as he leans forward, touching his nose to Greg's.

 

“I know you feel a need to look out for me. To protect me.”

 

“I. Sherlock, I.”

 

“I don't mind, Greg. I like that you take care of me. I also know that you'd never take advantage of that fact or this situation. When- I mean, later, when I'm better, maybe we can- can try?”

 

“You mean... Us?” Greg can't stop a smile when Sherlock nods, cheeks still burning but the shame and worry are gone. Greg leans forward, still smiling as he kisses Sherlock's lips, hearing a soft moan come out the man's throat.

 

“I wish I wasn't so damn honorable.” Greg whispers when they pull apart, Sherlock's taste still on his tongue and Sherlock giggles, eyes wide and dark.

 

“It's what I like about you, Greg. You.” Sherlock bites his lip, casting his eyes down before speaking again. “You make me feel safe. It's why I reached out to you. I knew, knew it would be a bad night and you're the person I wanted by my side.”

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Greg pets Sherlock's hair, hand going down Sherlock's cheek and shoulder before he brings them close again and kisses Sherlock.

 

“I'm glad it's me, Sherlock. I'd do anything to protect you.” He wants to say more, risking to sound like a cheesy movie when a loud sound fills the air and Sherlock curses, crossing his arms over his stomach, face in a grimace.

 

“Fuck.” Greg swears, standing up in haste and almost knocking over his chair. “Okay, all the flirting and kissing and sexy stuff are for later. Right now you need to eat!” He turns around, getting out supplies as Sherlock's voice calls out.

 

“Later? You mean it.”

 

Greg turns, pan in hand, seeing the hint of want and disbelief in Sherlock's eyes. He places down the pan, leaning over the table and grabbing a curl to wrap around his finger, smirk in place.

 

“Oh, sweetheart. I am beyond serious.”

 

The gasp of breath, mixed with the want growing in Sherlock' eyes makes him smirk more, leaning down to lick Sherlock's lips before pulling back. He can see Sherlock's body sway towards him, the man blinking his eyes rapidly as his tongue goes over his mouth and Greg winks before getting to work.

 

The sooner those pancakes are made, the sooner they can eat and then spend some time in bed. Together.

 

The End.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end! I hope you enjoyed this. I really like writing about Sherlock and Greg and Greg looking out for Sherlock, caring for him, is something I adore!   
> If you have any ideas, suggestions, prompts for another story ( no extra chapters for this story) let me know! 
> 
> Have a good weekend!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this first chapter was intriguing and you want to read more.
> 
> See you soon!


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